


Stuffie

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noct’s in a funk.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 22
Kudos: 103





	Stuffie

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s been about a week, and Noctis is still down—he’s sprawled out on the couch of his apartment they way he used to do in his bed at the Citadel, before he made his first real friend from outside and started smiling properly. There was a long, blissful stretch where he was better—still difficult, still full of attitude, but at least mildly content. Ignis should’ve known it wouldn’t last forever. Of course something would come along, even so small as the king missing one scheduled dinner, and he’d spiral right back into a miserable funk. 

Ignis can’t entirely blame him. Royal duties are incredibly draining, and Ignis only has to manage them in the background—he doesn’t have to live with the future weight of the whole kingdom on his shoulders. He may not be close with his parents, but he doesn’t have anywhere near Noctis’ internalized issues. And he has a few friends amongst the other staff members and even the glaives, whereas Noctis only has one at school and two on his father’s payroll. Then there’s the old scar on his back that sometimes gives him trouble and the ever-present pull of the crystal—more power than any teenager should have to handle. As much as Ignis tries to be stern when Noctis shirks duties, he’s still sympathetic.

Maybe it would be better if he were still going to school every day. But it’s summer break, and he doesn’t even have the white noise of the classroom to offer normalcy. He’s just old enough to have his own apartment, even if the building’s full of undercover security even he doesn’t know about. He says they’re not _quite_ close enough to ask Prompto over out of the blue, even though they seemed incredibly close before. Ignis saw them walk home hand-in-hand more than once, with Noctis’ arm tossed over Prompto’s shoulder or Prompto leaning just a _little_ too close and a telltale light in Noctis’ eyes.

Ignis pulls the curtains open to spill light into the room, but Noctis just rolls over and buries his face in the back of the couch. He doesn’t even flinch and groan like he usually does when Ignis wakes him early in the morning. It’s the middle of the afternoon. He should be up and dressed and doing homework or even playing video games. 

“I could squeeze in a round of King’s Knight before I go,” Ignis suggests, actually willing to not go at all—he’d stay all day if he thought it’d help. His own university classes can wait. As hard as he works to excel with his own academics, he’d drop right out if it for Noctis’ sake.

But Noctis grunts, “M’fine,” and shows no interest. Ignis knows from experience that pushing won’t help. Staying won’t help. Noctis says he needs space. Ignis knows Noctis perhaps better than anyone else in the world, and he knows that sometimes there’s nothing he can do but wait it out.

It kills him. But he sighs and murmurs, “I left lunch on the counter.” He squeezes Noctis’ shoulder on the way out, promising to be back tomorrow.

* * *

“Tell him to suck it up and get off his ass,” Gladiolus grumbles around his sandwich, which he at least said _thank you for_ —something Noctis hasn’t done in forever. Ignis continually makes them both sandwiches anyway. He loves them both, even if Noctis can be a pain in the ass and Gladiolus can be insensitive. Gladiolus swallows down another chunk and licks an extra glob off mustard off his bottom lip, then adds, “He’s got a great life and only a few more weeks to enjoy it before school starts up again—he should be ecstatic.”

He has a complicated life. A fancy apartment and crown funds only go so far. But he is well respected and growing into a handsome young man. In a lot of ways, he’s blessed. Still, Ignis clarifies, “This is more one of his vulnerable streaks, not his bratty ones.” There is a difference. If Noctis was just being an asshole, Ignis would transition into tough love mode and get his butt in gear.

For example, he should be coming on runs with them if he’s not going to do his usual training with Gladiolus. Exercise is not only important, but can help with depression. As Ignis has told him dozens of times. And it’s a bright, beautiful day, warm enough that they’re both in shorts, Ignis in a polo and Gladiolus in a sleeveless tank. Ignis was starting to sweat, but it’s worn off over the course of their lunch break. He finishes the last bite of his sandwich and flicks the crumbs off his lap. Pigeons swarm the bottom of the bench, pecking away at every last morsel. 

Finished too, Gladiolus sets in on the container of chopped vegetables—more of Ignis’ prepared snacks. He doesn’t usually feed all of Gladiolus’ ferocious appetite, but it’s a force of habit to make extra, and Noctis hasn’t been eating much. Gladiolus seems to appreciate it, and he eats the vegetables without complaint. 

He suggests, “It’ll be fine, Specs. He’s just being a teenager. Focus on your own shit for a change and enjoy the break.”

Ignis’ most important shit is Noctis. And he’s not all that much older than a teenager himself—he hasn’t learned how to put distance between them. He’s not sure he wants to. 

Maybe the frustration shows on his face, because Gladiolus rolls his eyes and amends, “Alright, if it’s bugging you that much... why don’t you just buy him a present or something? Get him a new game and let him get distracted by that for awhile.”

Noctis has all the latest games already. And getting stuck in them only tends to compound his sullen moods. But a gift isn’t a bad idea. He hums, “Perhaps I will.”

“Any chance you made dessert?”

There isn’t supposed to be a dessert course after lunch. But Gladiolus’ chiseled figure is Astral-quality and a few sugary pastries won’t hurt it. With a sigh, Ignis hands over the last container in his bag.

* * *

Noctis has everything he wants and more than everything he needs. It’s just not enough. Ignis considers redecorating—perhaps a new Justice-Monsters bedspread or a King’s Knight can-opener or something else silly and nerdy. Noctis digs nerdy, even if he thinks he’s too cool for school. Even knowing his taste to a T, Ignis can’t think of anything _right_. So after he makes a hearty tomato soup, he says, “I’m going to the store to fetch some more groceries. Would you like anything else?”

“Chips,” Noctis grunts over the rim of his soup. He’s bent over the coffee table, because he hasn’t left the couch in days and doesn’t seem willing to start now. He has to know full well that no matter how sad he is, Ignis isn’t going to buy him potato chips. At least, not the junky kind he wants. 

“I meant non-food.”

Noctis shrugs. He’s never had to think about other things like toothpaste or toilet paper—Ignis just automatically tops them up. He knows he shouldn’t, but he’s a sucker.

“Something superfluous. To make you feel better.”

Noctis’ face twists up. He looks at Ignis as though to say, _you know that’s not how it works_ , and Ignis does know. But he’s trying. After a long few seconds, Noctis melts a bit and does mutter, “Well... actually... okay, don’t laugh.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I kinda want a stuffed animal. I know I’m too old for it, but—”

“You’re never too old for stuffed animals,” Ignis interjects, because he’s willing to try anything at this point, and also because he still has the hideous felt cat Noctis made for his tenth birthday. It was obvious that Noctis’ didn’t take well to his sewing lessons any more than his dance or music lessons, but it was a handmade gift that Ignis has always treasured anyway. 

Noctis slumps, maybe in relief, like he really thought Ignis would make fun of him. “Cool. So... I guess that.”

“Any particular kind?”

“I dunno. I just... need to hug something.”

Ignis’ chest physically hurts. _He could hug Noctis._ But he knows Noctis will just blush and splutter and push him back, asking Ignis not to treat him like a child. Maybe Ignis is a little stiff himself and not the best at hugs. He could call Gladiolus, but that might crush Noctis to death. Ignis promises, “I’ll do my best.”

Noctis mumbles, “Thanks,” and eats some soup.

* * *

Plushies have definitely gotten uglier. 

At least, Ignis is fairly certain that when _he_ was a child, there were always quality stuffed animals available. And they always _looked_ like the animals they were supposed to be. Now everything has big round bug eyes with weird sparkly irises that look lifeless and crazed. That or their heads are too disproportionately large, or they’re rainbow coloured and covered in glitter. That sort of styling could be done well, but it’s just... not. Everything looks so tasteless.

He’s fully aware that Noctis doesn’t have the same exacting taste he does. But he also knows Noctis deserves the best and can’t in good conscience buy Noctis something ugly.

For a brief moment, he considers buying Noctis one of the intentionally ugly things—like the line of dolls made with real human teeth. At least then they could get a good laugh out of it. But then someone in the Citadel might hear about it and Ignis would definitely be fired. 

There are licensed stuffed dolls modeled after characters from some of Noctis’ favourite games. But those are the ugliest of all. They’re all cheaply made, pulled right off the assembly line, with wonky features painted on rather than sewn, and they flatten like pancakes. Ignis finds them intensely underwhelming.

He feels bad for the various children strewn out about the store, forced to choose from a buffet of disappointment.

He meanders over to a wall of childish headbands and detachable ‘tails.’ There are a few fluffy cat ears Ignis could maybe stick on Noctis. But then, hugging oneself isn’t nearly as satisfying as hugging someone or even something else. So Ignis moves on to a section of jarring yellow chocobos and spots a familiar blond head among them. He hasn’t seen Prompto Argentum out of uniform much, but he made sure to memorize the face that made Noctis smile. 

Prompto’s so busy examining a set of chocobos—one in either hand, both with beak defects—that he doesn’t seem to notice his company until Ignis greets, “Hello.”

Then Prompto nearly jumps out of his skin. He drops one of the toys, hurriedly ducks back down to pick it up, only to notice a black smear on its bottom. Frowning, he puts it back. He’ll clearly have to take the one with the orange paint smudge below the eyes. But he gives Ignis a nervous smile and returns, “Hey.”

Prompto, now that Ignis really looks at him, doesn’t have any defects. He has big, bright, lifelike blue eyes with little flecks of turquoise. There’s the slightest speck of dirt on his cheek like a puppy that rolled in mud, but Ignis could easily wipe that off. A light smattering of freckles crosses the bridge of Prompto’s nose—the sort of adorable detail stuffed animals just don’t seem to have anymore. And Prompto’s expression isn’t just plastered on, but warm and earnest—inviting and lovable. 

Ignis steps back. He gives Prompto a quick up-and-down. Prompto’s a little on the scrawny side, though about Noctis’ height and not far from weight. In a lot of ways, they’re a good match. His spiky hair is a tad wild but looks incredibly soft—much softer than the scratchy-looking doll in his hands. 

Making up his mind, Ignis asks, “Would you mind if I took you home with me?”

Prompto starts. His eyes go wide, which only makes them more beautiful. Clearly flustered—which is very fair; Ignis is perfectly aware of how odd it sounds—he asks, “Wh—me? Uh... I mean... okay?” 

He actually doesn’t know Ignis that well. Only as a friend of a friend, although Ignis is certain that if he sticks around, they’ll become much closer, because any friend of Noctis’ is a friend of Ignis. For now, he really shouldn’t be agreeing to go home with a pseudo-stranger. But he has, so Ignis accepts it. “Thank you.” Nodding to the chocobo, he adds, “I’ll get that for you.”

“What? Oh, no, you don’t have to—!”

“Please. Accept it as payment for spiriting you away on such short notice.”

Prompto opens and closes his mouth, blushing raw red across his rosy cheeks. Then he dons an abashed grin and mumbles, “O... okay. Thanks.”

Curtly nodding, Ignis deviates towards the headband section. Although Prompto seems more like a puppy than a kitten, Noctis has a penchant for felines, so Ignis selects a golden pair of cat ears that will go well with Prompto’s hair. As Ignis beelines for the counter, Prompto follows. Ignis places both the ears and chocobo by the til.

Prompto asks, “What are those for?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like you to wear them.”

“Uh... okay.” He’s entirely _too_ compliant. “...Can I ask why?”

“Noctis needs to cuddle you.”

“Oh.” He’s somehow found a way to get even redder. But as the cashier pulls out her scanner, Prompto mumbles around a barely-restrained smile, “Cool.”

* * *

Noctis stares at them.

Prompto stares back. 

He’s been to Noctis’ apartment before. Ignis knows he has. It was just always right after school when they came home together. 

And Prompto’s never been in Noctis’ apartment before in casual clothes with cat ears and a sheepish smile like he’s _so glad_ to see Noctis but is trying not to fanboy all over him. Frankly, it’s adorable.

Ignis can see the silenced fanboy screaming in Noctis too, but Noctis has developed a decent poker face over the years and is handling himself better. Ignis almost wishes he wasn’t. It’d be easier if they both just admitted what they want and dove at each other. It might not exactly be what the crown wanted for their prince’s future, but so long as it makes Noctis happy, Ignis wants it. 

Noctis awkward shifts in his self-made nest of blankets and asks, “What, uh... what exactly are you doing here?”

Prompto opens his mouth, but Ignis says for him, “I brought him. You said you wanted something to hug.”

Instantly, Noctis looks horrified. It’s probably one of the most embarrassing things that’s ever happened to him. The poker face is gone. Prompto stands there looking just as lost but hopeful as Noctis is, then mutters, “Oh!” and hurriedly fishes in his bag.

He pulls out the chocobo and wanders closer to the couch, stopping when his knees hit the coffee table. Handing the toy forward, he offers, “I got a chocobo; it’s super cuddly. You can have it if you want.”

Ignis quietly moves around them. He grabs the edge of the coffee table and silently slides it back, so there’s nothing in between.

Noctis breaks first and reaches out, bypassing the chocobo entirely. He grabs onto Prompto instead, and Prompto’s knees buckle—he collapses onto the couch and into Noctis’ embrace. The hug is so tight and fierce that Ignis may as well have gone with the one from Gladiolus. Prompto seems happy to be crushed against his prince, and unlike any stuffed animal Ignis could’ve found, he hugs Noctis back. 

Over Prompto’s shoulder, Noctis has cracked his first smile in two weeks. He tells Ignis, “Thanks, Iggy. ...You always know just what I need.”

A weight has lifted off Ignis’ shoulders. He feels like he can breathe again. He wants to hug Prompto too, because he’s just as grateful. 

But Prompto’s already getting the living daylights hugged out of him, so Ignis goes to the kitchen to make dinner for two—Noctis and Prompto; Ignis will probably leave to eat with Gladiolus and announce his victory.


End file.
